


The Evenstar

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Remembrance [12]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by UluithielFrodo. . . Sam. . . the Evenstar. . .oh! Eru. . .
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Remembrance [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922128
Kudos: 4
Collections: Least Expected





	The Evenstar

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: Frodo and Sam do not belong to me. If they did I wouldn't write such terrible, terrible things. But I'm trapped within the canon that JRRT gave us, damn him.
> 
> Story Notes: I finished this, the final panel of a very important series to me, on the 10th anniversary of my sobriety. Symmetry.
> 
> Dedications: Hope, when I fell into deep water you put down a hand and pulled me into the boat. Telcontar, meeting you has been such a gift. Lady Sunrope, you're the best beta! So loving. . . and everyone who read this, and particularly those who sent me feedback -- thank you.

12 July 1419 (in the Shire reckoning)  
Minas Tirith

> "Well here we are, just the four of us that started out together," said Merry. "We have left all the rest behind, one after another. It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded." "Not to me," said Frodo. "To me it feels more like falling asleep again." _The Return of the King_ , p 276

Frodo shut the door of the chamber and leaned against it, closing his eyes.

Sam's smile of greeting vanished, and he started from his chair. "Frodo? What is it, love?"

Frodo winced at the last word, and Sam frowned as he slid his arms around the slight form. "What is it, love?" he repeated. "Can you tell your Sam?" His voice was achingly tender, and tears began to slide from under Frodo's closed lids.

"Hold me, Sam," he whispered. "Please. . . just hold me."

Sam swept him into his arms and carried him to the huge chair before the fire. He cradled Frodo as he would a child, curly dark head nestled into his shoulder, legs tucked snugly under his arm. For long moments Sam rocked them, crooning wordlessly.

When Frodo finally looked up, Sam felt a shock of alarm.

Sam had seen many terrible things in Frodo's eyes. He had seen death as he bent over Frodo's body in Shelob's Lair. He had seen, so many times, the ugly swirling shadows of Frodo's private Darkness. He had seen stark terror and mindless fury. He had seen the unclean ecstasy of the Ringspell, and the anguish of loss.

This look was the worst. Frodo's bottomless eyes reflected _nothing_. They were clear, but vacant. The blue that could mirror Frodo's very soul was as deep, and as empty, as a September sky. There was a frigid remoteness there, an almost Elven quality of eerily calm detachment.

Sam was reminded of Elrond, and of Galadriel. Dread began to fill him, but he was unable to make a sound.

As he watched, the eyes moved to an object gleaming on Frodo's breast. The maimed right hand strayed, as if by its own volition, to touch the shining thing, and Sam felt a stab of horror as he remembered that hand making the same gesture toward another gleaming object that had hung on that breast.

But this object was not golden. It was glacial silver-white, a dagger of ice. Sam had seen it before, glittering about the neck of Arwen Undomiel: the Evenstar. And Sam felt the cold dagger pierce his own heart, and knew with sudden despair that this wound, _this_ wound, would never heal.

As the howling cold coursed from his heart through his veins, extinguishing hope, Sam saw divinations of the past merge with memories of the future.

He felt Frodo's kiss, warm and vibrant. . . . become one with Aragorn's lips, soft and tasting of pipeweed and excitement. His body stirred at the kisses. . . . and the stirring melded with warm affection as he saw Rose Cotton standing straight and sweet before him with flowers in her hair. . . . an unruly mob of small hobbit lads and lasses clamoured for a pick-a-back ride from their Sam-dad, gamboling like lambs in the grass of the Shire.

Sam wrenched himself from the reminiscence of things that had not yet come to pass with a cry that was no more than a whimper, too soft even to wake Frodo, who was now asleep in his arms. Frodo's beloved face was softened by slumber, the quiet lashes brushed with gold from the fire.

On Frodo's breast was the Evenstar. It glittered triumphantly at Sam, lying in the space where Frodo's third finger should have been.

And tears welled in Sam's eyes as he heard, like a remembrance of the future, the calling of the gulls as they wheeled and swooped over the shores of the Sundering Sea.

I will risk everything  
I will fight, I will bleed  
I will lay down my life  
if that's what you need.  
Every second I live  
that's the promise I make  
til there's no more to give . . . .  
if that's what it takes.

Celine Dion Whatever it Takes

finis


End file.
